The Words Written on his Chest
by GoldenGirl
Summary: Things have happened in Chuck's past and now he's a new man. Future fic. Chuck/Sarah. COMPLETE.
1. Like that first breath

Title: The Words Written on his Chest

Spoilers: None.

Genre: Future fic

Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck

Author's Note: This fic is a little different for me. It's an experiment. And it's darker than my usual stuff. The chapters are split between the past and the present. Everything that's in present tense is present and everything that's in past tense is past. And not all of it's chronological. I hope it doesn't get too confusing! Lemme know what you think!

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In the mornings sometimes he looks at himself for too long in the mirror over the sink. The light in every bathroom he is ever in is always a harsh, cold white and it makes him squint. And so he's got it in his head now that his eyebrows are perpetually furrowed. A half truth. But not much else has changed. His hair is buzzcut short but he's gotten used to it by now. The biggest change, though, is permanently written into the skin on his chest.

Between sparse hairs, where his heart is, the words "For Sarah."

He touches her name and closes his eyes.

///////////////////////

"Now, isn't this nice?"

Chuck settled into the bed, lying on his side, a perfectly contented smile on his face. Opposite him, Sarah was bemused. All he'd done was taken a sheet and flung it over their heads. "Uh, sure?"

"Don't you see?" Chuck explained. He flung the sheet off, uncovering them and said, "spy world" and then covered them again and said, "no spy world.

Uncovered; "Buy More."

Covered; "No Buy More."

Uncovered; "Casey."

Covered; "No Casey.

"So getting back to what I was saying before; isn't it nice under here?"

Sarah offered a smirk. "Touche."

But as idealized a world as he tried to create under the bed sheet Sarah could tell just how quickly he was succumbing to his claustrophobic tendencies. She had to stifle a laugh as he began to fidget around, trying to find a position where the sheet didn't lie right on his face. After much effort Chuck finally decided to prop himself up on his forearms, the back of his head pitching the sheet into a tent around them.

"The fort works better this way."

"Mhmm."

He smiled, recalling something. "Did I tell you how good you looked today when we took our lunch breaks?"

"I was wearing my Orange Orange uniform."

"I know."

"You've seen me in it a billion times."

"I know," he shrugged.

Sarah squinted skeptically, a smile fighting its way onto her lips. Chuck was looking at her funny. He was smiling in that puppy-dog way where his top lip nearly disappeared cuz it was spread so wide, the smile reaching his eyes. "What!" she exclaimed, playfully smacking his shoulder.

"Nothing!" He said. "You're just so beautiful."

It took her a minute to realize she was smiling like an idiot too.

She lifted her head off the pillow and didn't stop until her lips were firmly pressed against his. Chuck cupped her jaw with one hand and in doing so lost his balance and fell on top of her, the sheet parachuting down with him. She laughed but wouldn't stop kissing him.

When he kissed her he did it like that first breath after a really deep dive. It was like her mouth was his life support and she gladly let him breath her in as his hands gripped either side of her face.

When he nuzzled her neck, she giggled. She loved that he could make her giggle (because she certainly was not a giggler). "You know," she said, breathless, giddy, "I can tell exactly what you're feeling depending on how you kiss me."

He abruptly stopped nuzzling her neck and shot his head up, the sheet spiking. "Oh really?" he asked with a wriggle of an eyebrow.

"Yes," she nodded. With the way he wore his heart on his sleeve it was easy to tell the difference between a nervous peck and just a shy one, an over-excited make out precursor and a relaxed smooch. "Kiss me," she demanded.

Like any good asset he listened to his agent, then lifted his head so that she could appraise him.

"You're feeling... lucky."

His eyes got big, genuinely impressed. "How did you know that!"

"Well, you _are _about to get lucky. It wasn't that hard."

"No, I really do feel lucky. I've got you lying in my bed. You don't know _how _lucky I feel."

Her fingers took their time rummaging through the curls at the back of his neck as she tilted her head sideways in a manner that said "aww" without her having to speak it. "Oh you are definitely going to get lucky tonight."

His laugh was interrupted by his own yelp as Sarah swiftly flipped him over. She did that thing th--

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

Chuck checks himself in the mirror again, making sure the gun tucked into the back of his pants isn't visible. He pats his jacket over it and then looks over the piece of paper with the address again.

Opening the door he's greeted by a cruelly beautiful day.


	2. The best news you can get

Thanks so much to those who reviewed! Here is the next chap. Happy Holidays :)

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Ellie ran through the halls of the ER, clutching her stethoscope so it didn't whip right off her neck. It was all she could do to keep herself in check. As a doctor she was supposed to stay calm, level-headed, but she didn't bother concealing her worry as she pushed through the other doctors to get to his stretcher.

When she finally saw him-- saw what state he was in– she repeated his name like a mantra, a prayer that he was ok. He was alert and trying to say something but even so all she could see was the damage. His neck was in a brace, there was blood already drying in curly clumps on his head, and so much blood on his shirt it had to be cut off just to see where the wounds were. There were many people working on him but he still fought to get their attention, pushing away their gloved hands and begging. It was all too much for Ellie to take in.

"Chuck! What happened?"

When he finally noticed his sister there she was hoping fo some sort of relief in his eyes but all she could see through his tears was fear. "Where's Sarah!" he demanded. "Where's Sarah?"

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

When Ellie opens the door and lays eyes on him she exhales as if she's been holding her breath for a long time. She squeezes him in such a tight hug that Chuck has to chuckle even as he's trying to get some air.

"I'm so glad you're home," she whispers.

"Me too."

"Hey! Chuck!" Devon's grin is as wide as ever and after not seeing it in such a long time Chuck's just now realizing that it is indeed awesome. The Captain comes in for a hug too, with a few macho slaps on the back for good measure. "We missed you around here, bro," he says squeezing Chuck's shoulder. "You gotta tell us all about Moscow."

As it turned out Moscow was just another dead end. "Moscow was beautiful," he says in a long sigh. "Lots of... Russian people."

"He can tell us all about it later," Ellie interjects, noticing how tired he looks. "First, dinner. I hope you're hungry, Chuck."

He smiles sincerely at the promise of Ellie's home cooking. "Starved."

Eating Ellie's food made Chuck seriously reconsider leaving again, as was her intention, he was sure. But he did miss this. It'd been a while, nearly four months, since he'd seen them last, and that was entirely too long to go without seeing his family.

With Ellie preparing the desert in the kitchen Devon not-so-surreptitiously moves into the seat beside Chuck, assuming a serious posture, which can only mean he's about to have a serious conversation.

"So tell me, Chuck. How is everything, _really_?"

"Everything is _really _fine, Devon." He stresses the "really" in the hopes that Awesome will stop asking. But he knows that's unlikely to happen.

"I think what you're doing, taking time to travel-- clear your mind-- is awesome. But if you ever feel the need to talk to someone I could hook you up with some counseling. I'd be happy to go with you if you–"

"I don't need counseling," Chuck assures him. He misses the days when Awesome would offer to take him on a life-risking white water rafting trip instead.

"Getting mugged can be a traumatic experience, Chuck. You lost a lot, and then on top of everything, to lose–"

"I don't need counseling," Chuck repeats. "Thanks but no thanks, Devon."

"I was going to say lose your confidence. No man should have to lose that."

Chuck has to laugh, and even jokes, "I don't think I had much of that to begin with."

"You're probably right," Awesome notes, rather somberly. "Sorry if we're coming off too strong about this." Chuck finds it interesting that Awesome chooses the word "we" seeing as how Ellie hadn't mentioned a thing about any of this. She'd spent the entire dinner talking about what he'd missed back home and asking about the places he'd been.

"It's just, you know how Ellie is," Awesome continues. "She still worries about you." Chuck steals a look her way. She's arranging slices of pound cake on dishes, oblivious to the conversation. "You've been through a lot this year. You need to take as much time as you need. Just know we're always here for you."

"Thank you, Devon, I appreciate that. But really, I'm fine."

"So when do you think you're coming back home?"

It's a question he doesn't want to answer but coming here tonight knew he would have to.

Ellie joins them at the table. Chuck knows she heard the last part of the conversation because her eyes are alight with interest, waiting for him to answer. "I still have a few more trips to make," he says reluctantly.

"Well, we hope you'll find your way home by April," Ellie says.

Chuck feels confused. Even more so by the smile he sees sneaking onto Awesome's face. "What's in April?"

And by now even Ellie can't hide her excitement. Her smile is huge and she's radiant. "In April," she begins slowly, "you're going to be an uncle."

The news is like the best sucker punch he's ever gotten and he's up on his feet instantly, enveloping Ellie in a hug that's so sudden it surprises her but delights her all the same.

"You're having a baby!" He says, grabbing Ellie by the shoulders, incredulous. He turns to Awesome and shakes the beaming man's hand. "That's.... _awesome_!"

He hasn't been this happy in a while. In a year, actually. And by the way Ellie looks at him she's aware of that too.

"A baby," he says. "That's about the best news you can get, isn't it?"

Ellie nods, wiping a tear from her eye. She's touched.


	3. You pushed me into this life

Thanks for the reviews again, guys. This is a short one but chap 4 should be coming soon.

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"Nice shades."

Chuck turns. A minute a go there was no one sitting at the other end of the bench. Now there's Bryce Larkin.

"Yeah, well, it's sunny." He can't pinpoint why his voice always comes off so aggravated when he's talking to Bryce. He has many reasons to hate the guy, but he's also got just as many not to.

Looking at him doesn't help any. Bryce is wearing sunglasses too. The wind sweeps his hair into the perfect tousled coif, his shirt's unbuttoned at the collar, his sleeves rolled up to the elbows. He looks like he's just stepped out of a _GQ _cover. And that's just the side profile.

Chuck's nostrils flair and his top lip inadvertently curls into a sneer. In the end, how he should feel about Bryce and how he does feel about him always seems to get mixed up.

"So I take it Russia didn't go so well."

"No, not so well."

Bryce nods, looking as if he understands. Looking as if Chuck should just quit now because he's not a real spy and he's never going to catch Sarnov. Bryce confirms Chuck's suspicions with his next question. "Are you going to Virginia any time soon?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"I just don't see why you'd waste all your time on this quest for revenge when you could be–"

"Do you have any info or not?" Chuck cuts him off because the last thing he needs is Bryce Larkin telling him how to live his live. He'd done enough sending him the intersect.

"What happens if you do find him, Chuck? Are you going to kill him? Do you think that's an easy thing to do?"

"You just pull the trigger."

"Killing changes you."

It's moments like this that he remembers why he hates Bryce so much. Always so preachy. Chuck stands, takes a few steps, and scratches the back of his head. He really doesn't like having to sit through lectures. The only reason he'll enure it is because Bryce is his intelligence contact. If he didn't need him he wouldn't be talking to him right now. His other contact, the one that works for the NSA, thinks he should leave the whole chasing-bad-guys thing to the professionals.

"This isn't you, Chuck."

"This isn't?" He asks. "The danger? The bad guys? This is my life now, Bryce. _You pushed me into this life_!"

A darted glance around the park shows that some people are beginning to stare. He takes a step back and a deep breath. Bryce's expression remains the same, if a little disappointed. Though he does reach for an envelope at his side.

"Sarnov's rumored to have a weapon's deal with the Stentofts, the Danish crime family. A shipment's scheduled to come in at Antwerp in a week. If there is an exchange Sarnov's going to be there. The exact location and time is in here."

Chuck takes the envelope and looks inside of it briefly before putting it inside his jacket pocket. "Thanks."

"Don't thank me," Bryce says, getting up. "The only reason I'm giving this to you is because I don't want you chasing after the wrong bad guy and getting yourself deeper into this thing than you already are."

"Like I said, thanks. I appreciate it."

"And Chuck, if you do go to Virginia, say hi to Sarah for me."

Chuck nods almost imperceptibly and walks away.


	4. Stops blinking, stops breathing

She sits quietly and obediently, not bothering to speak unless asked a direct question (and even then not bothering with an honest answer). It's all going ok until she realizes the distant stare on her therapist's face isn't so distant at all and is actually very much focused on her hand.

Fingers curled, her nails digging into the arm rest of the upholstered leather arm chair. It's a tell, she realizes. She relaxes her hand and turns on a smile, hoping to redirect the attention to her face, where lying is beauty.

"So, how am I doing, doc?"

The therapist sighs a big sigh and sits up. "I know you'd rather be anywhere but here, Sarah, but seeing as how these therapy sessions are mandatory you should at least get something out of them, don't you think?"

"Absolutely," she agrees.

At first she'd spent entire sessions complaining, protesting, "raising her voice" (once she cried and that was a very bad slip that she made sure never to do again). Then she'd gone the unresponsive route, not saying anything, but that only raised red flags and landed her in more therapy.

So then came the talking, which was actually working. (Not therapeutically- she doesn't believe in therapy) but according to the people looking over her file talking meant progress. And progress meant the mandatory part of this therapy would be lifted.

"How are things at work?"

"Things at work are great."

"But you're still not getting along with your coworker...?" He leafs through some sheets on his legal pad. "Larry?"

"No, I'm getting along great with Larry. It's just that Larry's not getting along with _me_."

"I see. Maybe you should give him another shot."

"Well, maybe if he wasn't such a jackass...." She lets herself trail off.

"I could talk to someone about that if you'd like. Maybe get you working in another department?"

"Move me to another desk?" In a more sardonic tone she adds, "but I so like my desk."

"No, I mean get you into fieldwork again." She stops for a second. Stops blinking, stops breathing. "Would you like to be a field agent once again?"

She has the sneaking suspicion this is a trick question. If she says yes she sounds too eager and therefore unready. Then again if she says yes they might just take her up on it. The real question isn't whether she's ready, though. It's whether she wants it. Either be an agent again or stay in Langley, in a desk next to Larry the ass-kisser; danger, mystery, intrigue, never to be heard from again. The closest thing to normal she's ever known. Well, almost.

She sort of can't believe how hard the choice is.

"Do you think I'm ready?"

"That depends on you, Sarah. And when you decide to talk about what happened."

What happened. "That happened a year ago," she says, very matter-of-fact with a touch of nonchalance. Very _I'm over it, lets move on_.

"We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. But I think it would be good for you if you did."

Sarah nods and smiles like she really appreciates the advice.

///////////////////

Sarah looked down at her palm. It was colored red and pink, covered in a fresh array of scrapes, blood and peeled skin. It was what she got for bracing herself as she got knocked down to the ground.

It was a stupid thing, what she did. A really stupid thing.

When she finally looked up she was met by the image of Casey marching toward her, his bullet-proof vest and the scowl on his face making him appear bigger than he actually was.

"What the hell was that, Walker?"

Casey was an angry person but on this day he was even angrier. And he wouldn't let Sarah pass.

"You hesitated," he hissed. She merely stood her ground and took it, jaw clenched. "You hesitated and you let Sarnov get away."

Casey stepped closer, leaning his head toward her in a way she didn't particularly appreciate. "You're off your game, Walker. I've been ignoring this _thing _you've got going on with Chuck but if you let it effect your duty to this country again _I _won't hesitate to report you."

The fact that Casey called him "Chuck" instead of "Bartowski" like he usually did made her take him all the more seriously. He was cutting the bullshit.

He walked away before she had the chance to do so first.

Sarah could hear Chuck coming before she could see him. He was still out of breath by the time he caught up to her, falling in step as she walked back to the van. "Hey, are you ok?" he asked.

She sighed through her nostrils and cocked an eyebrow, telegraphing her pissed mood. "I saw Casey talking to you. He looked pretty mad. Well, more mad than usual. Don't beat yourself up over this– you win some you lose some, right?" He took her hand and examined it. "Your hand looks.... pretty nasty." he said, managing to make it sound charming. "Does the van come with a first aid kit?"

She loved him for wanting to take care of her, but it made her feel even more disgusted with herself. She took her hand back. "I'm fine," she said.

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

She sits on her couch, trying desperately to finish reading the third line of the second chapter of the book in her hand but her thoughts won't cooperate with her. Her eyes move toward the door. She looks at it even before she hears the light knocking.

When she opens it Chuck is standing on the other end.

"Hey," he says.


	5. Drowning

They're lying on top of the covers, parallel to each other. Chuck's eyes are closed, resting in a matter that is anything but peaceful.

"That guy Larry still bugging you?" he asks

Holding her head in her hand, her elbow digging into the bed, Sarah answers his questions distractedly, her real focus on him.

"Yeah," she says. "He still won't change his ringtone."

She looks at his head. The shorter hair looks good, looks very good, but it doesn't exactly suit him. She remembers the first time she saw his hair like this and how it shocked her. (His face was buried in the side of her hospital bed, a square piece of gauze on his crown, saying, "I couldn't get all the blood out," like an apology.) She wishes he'd grow it out again.

"Ugh," Chuck groans. "Do you want me to take care of him for you? I can be intimidating. I've got my height going for me."

"Larry's a 6 foot 5 300 pound Polynesian."

"Well it sounds like you've got it under control."

"Mhmm."

He's more muscular now. Not overtly so but his chest is more defined, his arms and shoulders more wiry. Physically, he's stronger.

"What about the shrink?" he asks. "I could probably take him."

She stares at his chest. She's mesmerized by that spot that he's forever immortalized with a name that isn't even truly hers.

_For Sarah_.

She reads it for the hundredth time, still not sure what to make of it. She doesn't think she likes it. It makes her feel uneasy, sad.

"I want you to stop this."

He opens his eyes and turns his head, looking at her quizzically. "Stop what?"

She sits up to face him, crossing her knees lotus style, her beige silk nighty riding up her thighs. He already knows what she means. And she's not going to indulge him by explaining. "Do you know how close I am?" he asks. "I've been tracking Sarnov for a year, Sarah. I know his haunts, I know his contacts. I'm almost there."

There is a bad taste in her mouth at the mention of his name. "A whole year," she says, not even believing it herself.

He sits up too because he can already see her eyes getting glassy. She'll look up and down and he knows it's just to keep the tears at bay.

"Hey," he says softly. "I went to see Ellie and Awesome. They're having a baby."

Her eyebrows rise in pleased surprise. "Wow," she says, her voice as low as his. "That's great." One tear gets away but the back of her hand catches it before it falls down her cheek.

"I fully plan on going back home to be an uncle. And you can come with me and be an aunt if you want." A sad laugh escapes her throat. "I'll get a boring job again and you can get one too and we can still have that normal life we planned on having before any of this happened. And we can be together."

"Don't say that if you don't mean it."

"Of course I mean it. But I _have _to do this. For what he did to you."

He never knew he could be this stubborn. "And after you get Sarnov, what then? You don't know what it's like to kill someone, Chuck. You have no idea what that'll do to you."

She couldn't have known that Bryce had said nearly the same thing to him, but either way Chuck looks as if he's tired of hearing it again.

"Sarah..."

"You can't keep doing this to me. You can't keep showing up here every couple of months and leaving again." If she goes on she knows her voice will betray her but she does anyway, "I needed you... I need you."

His hand cups the side of her face, his fingers linger at her neck, his thumb teasing her earlobe. He looks at her like she's an old photograph and she almost can't stand it.

"I'm here."

Her eyes meet his chest again. _For Sarah_. As uneasy as it makes her feel she's comforted by the thought that his heart beats on her name. Her fingertips read his tattoo and Chuck covers her hand with his own.

///////////////////////////

"Ow ow ow ow OW!" Chuck was scared out of his mind, and with Sarnov's hand around his neck, for good reason.

He recognized Sarnov because it was only last week that he was the featured Bad Guy in one of their missions. He was the one who'd gotten away but now, battering the back of Chuck's head into the very hard metal door, he was very much back.

"What are the codes!"

Chuck could barely get out an "I don't know!" before his head met the door again. This was starting to really hurt. "I should warn you that I'm not very good with headaches, in fact, I'd be far more useless to you than I already am _with _a headache, which I'm kind of starting to get, so please, let's just stop with the head banging and talk about this like two rational adults, ok?"

The whole thing came out like a nervous stammer but Chuck knew that Sarnov had understood him because the man's face slowly contorted into the picture of pure, unadulterated, anger. It was at that point that Chuck realized he really should have stayed in the car.

Sarnov slowly pulled Chuck's neck forward and then slammed his head against the square window in the door. He heard the glass break before he passed out.

When Chuck came to he could feel the sticky wetness all over his head and neck, his vision was blurred, and he was strapped to a chair.

"You pass out on me."

"Sorry," Chuck said, groggily. "I've been passing out a lot lately."

"You think this is funny?" Sarnov yanked Chuck's head back by the hair. "You steal my codes, I want it back. Tell me what the codes are."

"I don't _know _what they are!" Chuck whined. "We didn't steal anything! Believe me, I would tell you if I did but I have no idea what you're talking about!"

"You ever have been tortured?" Although it should've been obvious Chuck didn't realize that's what this was until Sarnov had said the word. His face drained of all color and he listened very carefully. "I only have little knife but I can use it to really suffer you, Mr. Carmichael." The incorrect use of the word only made Chuck more fearful.

"See this spot?" Sarnov asked, pointing to his abdomen. Before Chuck could even say anything Sarnov poked the knife through him. He did it twice. "Now you tell me the codes."

Blood was coming out like a hole had been unplugged and as his head spun all he could think was that any minute now Casey would bust in, guns blazing to save him. Instead some other guy came through the door holding a much bigger knife to Sarah's neck.

"You talk now?"

"No, no, please let her go, I don't know anything, I _swear_!"

"No? We do the same thing to her."

Chuck begged himself to break free, begged for Sarah to pull a gun out, begged himself to flash but all there was was nothing. "No, _please_!"

"Do it."

Casey busted in 5 minutes too late.

\\\\\\\\\\\\

She's got one arm around his neck, one hand on the crown of his head, wishing to grab a mess of hair but his hair's so short now. Chuck is moving on top of her, head buried in her neck. She wants to be as silent as possible to listen to the sounds he makes- his mouth working on her neck, his breaths hinged with moans, every one– but her own sounds giving her away. Her breath comes through her parted lips faster, her own moans come too, unbidden. Chuck's head lifts so that he can look at her, all burning cheeks and creased eyebrows and she must look exactly the same.

"Sarah," he whispers, his forehead coming down to meet hers. They move in the same pace, the same rhythm; they're dancing to the same song. And when he kisses her it's like he's drowning.


	6. They tried it once the other way

The flashback in this chapter takes place before the flashback in chapter 5. Thanks for reading!

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Chuck kept sneaking glances at her as they walked toward the restaurant. She'd hardly said a word in the Nerd Herder save for a couple of half-hearted responses to any of his questions. He'd given her her space long enough but if they were going to have dinner with Awesome and Ellie the whole monosyllabic thing would have to let up.

"Hey, wait, before we go in," Chuck said, pulling her aside right as they were reaching the doors, "is everything ok?" Her whole body language said everything was not ok; asking was just a formality. She crossed her arms and clenched her jaw, not angry, but still unresponsive. "Is this about the mission?" he went on. "Cuz you can't catch them all, you know. Casey's a blowhard, he'll get over it. It's not your fault that that Sarnov guy got away."

"Yes it is. I shouldn't have even been there."

"Wow you spies are really hard on yourselves. Sarah, it's _ok. _He may be gone but the important thing is we're safe– _I'm _safe, right? You did your job. So tonight, instead of beating yourself about something that's already in the past lets have ourselves some moo goo gai pan while we enjoy a night of doctorly anecdotes from the Awesomes. A good time is promised to be had by all."

And although his warm, goofy grin had always been enough to turn her mood around, tonight it wasn't. Now, instead of the pensive look that had clouded her eyes all day, her face just said,_ that isn't it, at all_. She sighed. "I'm pregnant."

A lady passing them to enter the restaurant herself promptly shrieked as Chuck promptly fainted.

.

.

"Chuck!"

Sarah kneeled over him and tried shaking him back to consciousness. She knew she shouldn't have told him right then. Then again, he probably would've fainted no matter when or where he heard the news. "Chuck!" she repeated, this time slapping him.

That did the trick. Chuck's eyes shot open in a vaguely horrified expression. "Come on," Sarah said as she pulled on his arm, helping him to stand. "Get up."

"But I need to sit down," he said, already bending his knees again, regarding the sidewalk as if it was the only part of the street that wasn't spinning.

"No, no, _Chuck_," Sarah said, getting into his eyes. "Dinner, remember?"

He stared back at her. "You're _pregnant_?"

This really was a bad time to break the news.

Just then Ellie, followed by Awesome, popped out of the restaurant's entrance, fully alert, albeit a little surprised to find Chuck and Sarah outside. "Hey guys!" she said. "A lady just went in asking for a doctor."

Awesome looked around, finally coming to pat Chuck on the back. "Said some guy had fainted out here. See anyone, Chuck?"

"Huh? No," Chuck replied. "Certainly wasn't me!"

"Great! Let's eat!"

.

.

The restaurant was alive with noise coming from every packed table in the house. Awesome was in the middle of a story involving a patient who had come in with some foreign object stuck in... Sarah wasn't sure where; she was too busy focusing on the glass of water she was sipping. Her moo goo gai pan remained largely unscathed and inspiring a distinct feeling of nausea in the pit of her stomach. And sitting opposite her, too-vigorously cutting his slab of meat, was Chuck, laughing loudly at all the wrong moments in Awesome's story. A peak under the table alerted her of the way his knee was nervously bouncing up and down. She stared at him above the glass. He was sweating.

"It reminded me of Morgan and Anna," Awesome laughed. "He still in the doghouse?"

"Morgan?" Chuck asked.

Of all the things he could've been feeling at the moment (fear, shock, joy?) Chuck was acting like he was harboring a huge secret. Sarah could see that if she didn't talk to him– quick-- his already cracked dam of self control would burst wide open. She tried to catch his glance but he mostly kept his eyes on his feverishly-moving knife and fork.

"Morgan is great!" Chuck exclaimed. "He and Anna worked everything out, though she'll probably kick him out again next week-- you know those two crazy kids. You wanna know what the funny thing is though? The funny thing is that Sarah's pregnant! Would someone please pass the pepper?"

Sarah slowly put her glass down as Awesome and Ellie slowly turned to look at her.

"Surprise," she whispered under her breath.

"You're having a baby?" Ellie asked, the shock even in her voice. Chuck looked like he was very eager to hear the answer to that question too. Sarah locked gazes with him, just for a moment, before turning back to Ellie and nodding.

"Wow," Awesome said. "That's.... awesome, bro."

"Awesome?" Ellie asked. "_Awe_some_? _Chuck, you make 11 dollars an hour! And Sarah, you work at a yogurt shop! Have either of you even given any thought as to how you're going to raise a child?"

"I haven't really had the time to-" Chuck tired but Ellie's voice was quickly climbing in octaves, as it did whenever she found herself in moments of high distress.

"My little brother is having a baby! My baby brother who killed _two _consecutive goldfish by 'accidentally' forgetting to feed them is having a baby and all you can say is Awesome?!"

A silence fell over the table as Ellie grabbed her wine glass and downed it all in one gulp in an attempted to calm herself down. Sarah wished she could do the same. Ellie put the glass down. "My little brother is having a baby!" Before Sarah could even realize it Ellie had come over and enveloped her in a hug, her breath catching on tiny tears as she let it all out. "I'm going to be an aunt!"

Sarah stood stiffly, too surprised and confused to even return the hug at first. She looked over Ellie's shoulder. "Chuck, can I talk to you for a minute?"

///////////////////

It is the crack of dawn, the world is still asleep, but Chuck is screwing in a light bulb.

The light fixture over the livingroom has two light bulbs and one of them was out so Chuck found a light bulb in a closet and decided to replace it. The job makes him feel happy, and also quite manly. Sarah would need a ladder to change it, but standing on a chair from the kitchen he's able to reach the light with ease and so he feels manly being able to do this for her, take care of her in some small way.

He steps off the chair and looks around the now brighter room, not to find something else that may need fixing, just to look. It's something he's come accustomed to doing while Sarah's still in the bedroom, asleep and oblivious. He'll walk over to her desk and skim through the envelopes of unopened mail. He checks her TiVo to see what shows she's programmed in and what she saw last. Walking over to the bookshelf he drags his fingertips along the spines every book on the book shelf, though there aren't many. Her fridge is a paradox. There isn't much but organic lemonade, bags of ready-made salad, and in the fridge there's fudge popsicles and, oddly, a bag of cheesey puffs. He doesn't waste time questioning it, just loves it all.

He likes to imagine what it's like for Sarah to live here, in a place that she's come as close to settling down in as she's ever gotten. He likes to imagine what it would be like for him to live here too, the sorts of arguments they'd have over which posters can go on the walls and just how many gaming systems he could hook up to the TV. What it would be like to spend a whole Saturday lounging around in every room in the house, not bothering to change out of their PJs.

He sits on the big, comfy brown leather couch, her one grand indulgence in the whole place. He picks up the book on the coffee table and opens it to the bookmark, which is actually just an old fortune cookie fortune. It reads, _Traveling more often is important for your health and happiness._

He turns it over.

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

"What were you thinking?!" They were back outside and that shocked/horrified/scared look still hadn't left Chuck's face. "You just found out not a half hour ago and you're already telling the whole world! We haven't even talked about this!"

"I wouldn't exactly call Awesome and Ellie the whole world..."

"I can't even tell if Ellie hates me... this was not the way to tell them."

"She doesn't hate you. This is just how Ellie gets when.... her little brother announces he's having a kid. _Having a kid_," he repeated, more to himself. "I'm going to be a father." He kept saying it over and over again, putting the emphasis on a different word every time until the whole sentence came out of his mouth virtually italicized. "I gotta...."

She stood dumbly as Chuck walked back into the restaurant without another word.

She waited, wondering what he was doing. In his condition it was probably a very bad idea to let him idle, but Sarah couldn't make a move to follow him. She didn't know what to do. About any of this.

A few minutes later Chuck came back outside, looking a little less shocked. "This may have been an accident... but it's not a mistake," he said, his shining eyes betraying his now composed demeanor. "I'm going to be a father and the more I think about it the more I realize that I've never been happier in my whole life."

He said it so simply, like it was just a fact and not some big revelation, that she smiled for the first time that day.

"And I wanted to give you this."

Sarah took the slip of paper he held out. It was a fortune cookie fortune. "_Traveling more often is important for your health and happiness_," she read, looking at curiously. "I don't get it."

"Turn it over."

_Marry me_

At the sight of the words her eyes instantly brimmed with tears. "What is this?" she asked, her voice nothing more than a whisper.

"Say yes," Chuck pleaded. "And don't think I'm only doing this because you're pregnant. Because it only made me realize that I should've done this a long time ago." He stepped closer, taking her hand. "Say yes and we can have the life we've been talking about. You talked about quitting your job and we talked about being together and now we actually have a good excuse to do it. Not that I'm calling the kid an excuse," he said, matching the teary laugh that left Sarah's lips.

"I can take care of you."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and dug her face into his chest. "I may only make 11 bucks an hour but I can take care of you," he repeated, squeezing her back and letting his tears fall. "I'll be there every step of the way, Sarah, you can count on me. I'll never leave your side, I promise, I'll be th— "

//////////////////////////

He stands at the door frame of her room. He can never spend too much time watching her sleep but he'll have to leave before she wakes up. They tried it once the other way, with "goodbyes", but that was too hard and something they both agreed never to do again.

He crosses over to the bed and drops a note beside her.

When she wakes up she'll read it and it'll say, _Next time I'll stay._


	7. The new light

A/N: So, there seems to be a lot of confusion! Lol. I'm sorry. I know that people usually italicize flashbacks but I personally find that to be too distracting, especially when the flashbacks are very long. Please remember that past tense means flashback.

For those who need it, here's a little "previously on" to try and summarize everything that's happened in the story so far:

In the **flashbacks**: Chuck and Sarah were happy; on a standard mission the gang encountered Sarnov, a Bad Guy who got away; Sarah tells Chuck she's pregnant and he proposes; Sarnov comes back, gets a hold of Chuck and Sarah, and kills their unborn child.

In **present time**: It's been a year since it happened and Chuck's on a vengeful quest to find Sarnov; Ellie and Awesome think that Chuck and Sarah were violently mugged and that Chuck has been traveling to try and cope; Bryce is helping Chuck by feeding him info about Sarnov's whereabouts; Sarah has moved to Virginia where she now works at CIA headquarters; We learn that in the year since she left LA Chuck has been coming to visit her every couple of months; Before leaving again Chuck leaves her a note promising that next time he'll stay with her for good.

And now, onto the chap! This was supposed to be a short flashback but it turned into a whole chapter. Let me know what you think!

.

//////////

She felt like she had been awake for hours, just sitting there with a pillow propping her up on the upright hospital bed. They said she had only been there for a couple of days but it felt like a lot longer.

It's like there's a new light and under it everything looks so foreign.

When Chuck walked in she couldn't recognize him for a moment. His hair, so short, shocked her silent.

He sat beside her on the empty chair. "I would've come sooner, but," he stared down at his hands and Sarah looked at them with interest, trying to see what he saw. "How are you feeling?"

It was an interesting question considering she was in a hospital, hooked up to tubes and wires and beeping machines. She knew she should be feeling something but she also knew of pain killers and sedatives and that what she was feeling was nothing.

"What?" she asked.

"How are you feeling?" this time more concerned.

There was a tube pinned into the back of her hand and the more she stared at it the less she could figure out if it was digging into her or sprouting out of her. Around the tape she could see the start of a bruise.

She knew she felt something but exactly what evaded her. She flexed her hand slowly. "I'm fine," she heard herself say.

"I would've been here sooner but I had to... I had to have some things done too." He pointed to his shirt, a sky blue one with a large GameBoy graphic in the center. His finger hovered close to the B button. "I had Morgan bring me some clothes... I came as soon as they let me go."

He talked like he had a frog in his throat. He had a frog in his throat and such short hair. She couldn't stop staring at it. This consumed her more than anything.

He didn't say much after that but with every passing moment she could see him crumbling, right in front of her. First he hunched over, elbows on knees, then his chin started to quiver, then one hand went up to rub his forehead and then the other hand went up to cover his face. She didn't hear any crying but she saw the way his back heaved up and down. None of this was very clear.

She thought perhaps she was supposed to comfort him but all she could think to say was, "I've been taken off the assignment." Which was a sort of comfort because it got Chuck to stop for a moment.

"What?"

"I have to report back to DC," she said, repeating it just as it had been told to her, the same words, the same emotionless tone. "As soon as I'm released from here."

"You can't go."

"I can't stay." Like she'd really be able to stay here. When you boiled it down he was just the beautiful promise of a normal life. A normal life looming overhead, forever out of reach now.

She said it like it was obvious, like she was insulted he'd even suggest otherwise.

"But I proposed to you and we're getting... we were going to be together."

It went so quickly from _we are _to _we were_.

She looked down at her hand again, the one with the IV coming out of it. There was no ring there. No proof to back up anything he was saying. It was like none of it ever happened.

Chuck began crumbling again and put his head down on the side of her hospital bed. Taped to his crown was a small square of gauze. She wanted to reach out and touch him but her fingertips repelled, like opposite sides of two magnets. His hair was _so _short, the image of him so jarring she still couldn't comprehend it.

"Why'd you cut off all your hair?"

His voice came muffled because he still wouldn't lift his head. "I couldn't get all the blood out."

He sounded like some knockoff Lady Macbeth, so guilty and pathetic, she had to hate him a little bit for it. When he finally looked up his face was creased and damp. "I'm so sorry, Sarah."

It came out like a sob. With what looked like much effort he came to sit on the bed beside her, facing her.

"I'm so sorry, Sarah," he said again, anguished. Like he was begging her. The more he cried the more the tubes became clearer, the bandages more real.

"I'm so sorry, Sarah."

Her breath was so rapid she almost couldn't catch it. Her arms around him, she frantically tried to take hold of him, pulling on fistfuls of his shirt but it was like there wasn't enough of him to grab.

"I'm so sorry."

She only knew she was crying because the fabric of his t-shirt, on his shoulder, was turning a darker shade of blue with every drip. But she could finally formulate the feeling that had escaped her before.

She felt empty.

He held her and she wailed.

/////////////////

She's up before the alarm clock, sitting cross-legged on the bed and staring at the note in her hands.

_Next time I'll stay. _

It was the first thing her eyes saw when she opened them and it is what she will be thinking about the whole day, and probably every day until it comes true. She wishes he hadn't left a note at all but she's beginning to understand that he writes down the most important things to him. He wrote her name into his chest. He asked her to marry him with words scrawled in his handwriting.

Anyway, it's better like this. Like this the freshest memory of him in her mind isn't of him saying goodbye. It's of the feel of his stomach under her palm as her eyes blinked closer to sleep. Of his lips on the top of her head. Of his fingers curled around the back of her arm.

She stands up and heads for the kitchen to start the coffee but on her way there she notices that the light in the livingroom is turned on, and then she notices that it's brighter than before. She looks up at the new light curiously. Realization dawns on her face and she smiles.

The alarm clock in her room buzzes and just like that it's a new day.


	8. My most vivid memory

Thanks to those who reviewed :)

//////////////////

"You were mugged.

You hear me, Bartowski? You were mugged!

That's your story.

You and Walker were out on a date and you were assaulted by two men with knives, you got that?

Hey.

Hey!

Pay attention, Bartowski!

This ambulance is CIA.

They're taking you to your sister's hospital.

They're going to corroborate your story.

Got it?

Don't say anything else!"

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Casey's hands are fists around the collar of Chuck's jacket and the complete force of them pins him against the wall.

"Good to see you too, Casey."

If it were under any other circumstances this first meeting between them in nearly a year would probably be going a lot more amicably.

Chuck is in Antwerp and as beautiful as the canals and narrow streets and dutch-homes-right-out-of-a-Vermeer-painting are, the only reason he's left the hotel is to go stake out the pier and find Sarnov. But Casey sort of threw a wrench into those plans when he virtually materialized out of nowhere and grabbed Chuck just as he was turning the corner.

And now, in a dark alleyway, Chuck's making nice with the brick wall behind his head and remembering just how strong and perpetually angry Casey always was.

"I'm not gonna ask you again."

Chuck very much doubts that he is the reason Casey is in Antwerp. He's gotten good enough at not leaving a paper trail, and anyway, Casey's stopped looking for him a long time ago. If Chuck had to guess he'd say that the reason Casey's here is because he's on the job.

"I'm here for the same reason you are."

"Really? Cuz I'm here on orders to stop an arms deal and you're here to act like some vigilante super hero from one of your comic books. As much as you hope the haircut makes you look like a tough guy, it doesn't."

Casey had never been much of a fan of Chuck's plan. As much as Chuck knows Casey's anger stems from a place of protection it's still not appreciated.

"Just leave me alone, Casey."

But Casey doesn't leave him alone. He jabs a forearm into Chuck's neck and uses his other hand to find the gun behind Chuck's back. Casey pulls it out, looks at it, grunts. "You are ten kinds of idiot, Bartowski."

And maybe because Casey isn't expecting it, or maybe because he is actually a bit of a tough guy now, Chuck manages to knock Casey back and swipe the gun from him in one deft move so that when Casey stumbles backward he's almost as surprised as he is pissed off.

"You got nothing to do with this," Chuck warns. "And you can't stop me."

"Why do you think I'm here?" Casey asks. "This is out of NSA jurisdiction but I want to get this guy just as bad as you do. Now, I can make sure Sarnov gets caught but you need to stay out of my way. God only knows how many ways you can screw this up."

"I don't want Sarnov caught," Chuck says. "I want him dead."

"The place is crawling with CIA, Bartowski. You know what's gonna happen here tonight? They're going to break up this deal, they're going to take Sarnov in, and then I myself will arrest you for going AWOL because even though you're no longer priority number one or the only human intersect anymore you're still a piece of very important US intelligence. I could still gain a lot of brownie points from my superiors for bringing you in."

"Then go ahead, Casey. Yeah, you know what, go ahead. Take me in. Please. You know why I don't care anymore? Because this–" he taps his temple with an index finger– "this doesn't work anymore."

"What are you talking about?"

"I haven't flashed in a year. Not on anything. And I've been in enough places and around enough bad people to do it."

"How's that possible."

"Maybe it's because I haven't been able to get the image of Sarah getting stabbed out of my head."

Casey hasn't got a response for that.

"You know when you see something so horrible it takes over everything else?" Chuck asks. "My most vivid memory, out of everything in my life, is the moment right before the knife went in. You know that was the only time I'd ever seen her cry? Not when the knife was being held up to her neck, but when it went down to her stomach– when it wasn't _her _life in danger anymore."

Casey couldn't pretend it wasn't hard for him to hear it. "You're not going to kill Sarnov."

"Watch me."

"You've been obsessing about this for a year and once it's over, it's over. You're gonna come crashing down and you're not gonna know what to do with yourself. You think you can just do this and go back home and live a normal life? A person like you doesn't come back from this, Bartowski. This'll give you nightmares the rest of your life."

"I already get nightmares," Chuck says. "I can't close my eyes without thinking about it."

Casey shakes his head, disappointed. "You know, back at the academy I hear you're a cautionary tale." He looks at Chuck and smiles ruefully. "The asset gets mixed up with the agent, they delude themselves into thinking they can _be together_, start a family. But in the end it all gets shot to hell and everyone's life get ruined. For them, the worst part of the story is that the agent gets demoted to a desk job." He sighs. And there isn't anymore that either of them can say to each other.

"I don't know why you're so angry, Casey. "You'd be doing the exact same thing if you were in my shoes."

Which Casey knows is true. But he also know that he'd have a better shot of not getting killed in the process. "Don't let me find you again."

Chuck leaves and Casey's left in the alleyway by himself.


	9. Happiness

Chuck's been in Antwerp for two days and there's been no activity at the piers. The info Bryce gave him said there'd be a three day window in which Sarnov is set to make his trade, so that means that today's his last day.

However any of this goes down today is it.

He looks at himself for too long in the mirror over the sink. The light's still harsh, his eyebrows are still furrowed, and it's the same picture he's been seeing every day for a year. Nothing's changed, and sometimes he thinks it's all been a waste.

His fingers lightly scratch at that spot in his chest where her name is written and he closes his eyes. This is what he does when he wants to really focus on thinking about her, on bringing up his favorite memory.

_Sarah had actually forced him awake by asking if he was already up. Not that Chuck minded, of course._

"_Mmmhu?" he asked, taking so much effort to turn around it was like he'd been sleeping for a hundred years. Her face was blurry in his sleep-filled eyes. He blinked a few times. "Something wrong?" his voice sleep-filled too._

"_No." _

"_Ok." He was already halfway back to sleep again._

"_Chuck?"_

"_Mhmm?"_

But before he can even get through the full memory his thoughts are interrupted, like they so often are, by that knife; so easily slipping into her like hot butter. Once, twice. He doesn't even know if she screams because all he can hear are his own. His screams are so loud they fill his head.

Chuck opens his eyes. He hates this. He hates the way this vivid memory can overpower his favorite one. And he knows it won't stop until he finds Sarnov. And today is it.

He turns the lights off in the bathroom and leaves.

.

.

.

Chuck's pretty sure he's seen this in a movie once. In fact he's pretty sure this has been in every spy movie ever made. It's the scene where there's someone in a hotel room, hiding behind the curtain on the balcony, gun and/or blunt object in hand, waiting for the room occupant to come through the door.

In this scenario Chuck is the one behind the curtain.

He found Sarnov and it was almost by accident.

It was morning when Chuck went back to the pier, knowing that nothing would transpire in the light of day but wanting to be there anyway for surveillance. And on his way there he saw him. He was just standing outside a Café, talking with a couple of other men, head bowed and shifty eyed. Chuck had stared at him so hard it was lucky nobody saw him. But he had to make sure it actually was Sarnov. After such a long time of going by memory alone, he had to be sure. When the men parted Sarnov was alone and he entered the hotel down the street unescorted. It wasn't hard to find which room he was in.

Chuck waits for him to come to the balcony, and as he double-checks his gun's mag a waft of memory comes to him and suddenly he's thinking about Morgan.

In simpler times they used to kill whole armies in two-hour fever sprees and top it off with a couple of beers and pastrami sandwiches. He can hear Morgan's voice now: _"Nothing better than two buddies totally killing it on Call of Duty and kicking back with some bruskies."_

Chuck actually misses video games. To think there was a time in his life when he could play a game with his best friend and not have a care in the world. As lame as it was to other people video games were absolutely an unadulterated source of happiness for him. But as soon as he thinks that he denies it. His idea of happiness has altered so much since then he's not even sure he knows the meaning of the word anymore. Is it relaxing in front of a Playstation or is it killing Sarnov, because it can't be both. They're too contradictory.

Sarnov's out of the bathroom and grabbing a pack of smokes from the night stand. This is good, Chuck decides. A likelier chance that Sarnov will come to him, out to the balcony. And he does.

The man stands just a few feet away now, staring down at the city below and totally oblivious to Chuck.

He points the gun right at the back of Sarnov's neck, hearing that quiet sound that metal on skin makes, that clammy click. "Get in the room."

Sarnov freezes beneath the gun but after a moment he complies, walking slowly back inside.

"Turn around," Chuck commands (because it isnt real if he can't face him).

Sarnov turns and when he does Chuck can see that he's smiling. "I have men outside my door," he says in his thick accent. "I say one word they come and kill you." He's still smiling when he says this but it's an act, Chuck can tell. "I have many men outside."

"No, you don't."

Sarnov's smile twitches a bit but it's still there.

It takes him a minute to do anything because this is the moment Chuck's been waiting for, striving towards. He looks at Sarnov, totally defenseless and standing at surrender and he hears a 12 year-old Ellie in his ear. "_Chuck, if one of those kids ever bothers you again you need to come and tell me. You know how mom gets when you get into fights_. _Don't be ashamed to have your big sister protect you_."

"Give me that pillow," Chuck says. He hasn't got a silencer and there are too many people around who will hear the gun go off. He needs something to muffle the sound.

"Give, me, that, _pillow_," Chuck repeats.

"Ok, ok," Sarnov says, holding his hands up but not actually doing anything.

"_This is how you hold a gun, Chuck._" It's Sarah this time. Gun training, but not to shoot it. His only session in gun training and it had only been for appearance's sake; Charles Carmichael would know how to hold a gun. "_It isn't a live grenade that's about to go off. A gun is your friend. It's an extension of you. Try and make it look convincing_."

"DO IT!" Chuck snaps.

His gun's quivering a bit, and from the objective point of view it'd probably be hard to tell if Chuck's shaking cuz he's nervous or because he's about to blow a fuse. Sarnov inches toward the bed, toward the pillow at the head; every move saying, _don't shoot, I'm doing exactly as you say_.

Except a second later he's not, and before Chuck has a chance to react the pillow's in the air and Sarnov is a blur coming towards him. He should've seen him coming. Shouldn't have frozen up the way he did. It was like his own subconscious sabotaged him. He knocks Chuck out like a quarterback and the gun skids on the tiled floor. Chuck punches him a few times, hard and quick. His knuckles meeting cheek bone, nose, teeth, coming back bloody. But the most important thing is the gun. He turns around, scrambles to get it, his shoes slipping as Sarnov grabs the back of his jacket. The gun is just in Chuck's reach, but what he can't see is Sarnov raising a big, ceramic vase over his head. Chuck grabs the gun, spins, but the vase shatters around him.

And everything turns to black.

/////////////////////

It was a night when he was already growing so used to having Sarah in bed with him that he, amazingly, incredibly, wasn't holding on to her in some capacity. They were in that comfortable stage in their relationship where you fall asleep spooning and wake up with someone's hand in the other's face or someone's head by the other's thigh. And that night Sarah had actually forced him awake by asking if he was already up. Not that Chuck minded, of course.

"Mmmhu?" he asked, taking so much effort to turn around it was like he'd been sleeping for a hundred years. Her face was blurry in his sleep-filled eyes. He blinked a few times. "Something wrong?" his voice sleep-filled too.

"No."

"Ok." He was already halfway back to sleep again.

"Chuck?"

"Mhmm?"

She took a minute, looking like there was so much she wanted to say but didn't know exactly how to say it. "I love you."

He didn't say anything for a moment because he was half asleep and it was two in the morning and Sarah was still a little blurry and this was all he'd ever wanted to hear her say for such a long time and he needed to make sure that she had actually said it and why would she wake him up in the middle of the night to do it? He wanted to say all of these things. "I love you," he said.

It was a while before they went back to sleep. Beyond all the love what Chuck really felt, at the core of it, was happiness.


	10. This is for Sarah

"I'm going to be a father."

She was surprised half of LA hadn't yet found out the news by the way Chuck kept on saying that very sentence. He'd say it while he brushed his teeth, while he tied his chucks, while he drove his car, and while he laid in bed doing nothing at all.

Which was what he was doing at that very moment. Sarah tried not to pay too much attention to the way Chuck was scrutinizing her stomach, his eyes roving over it as if it were some distant, never-before-seen land.

"You," Chuck said, "are carrying my child. _Our _child. Do you think it'll like me? Do you think it'll like TV? Hey wouldn't it be funny if he or she loves olives but hates pizza? Cuz, you know, I love pizza and you hate olives."

She rolled her eyes, but not without smiling. "Chuck, quit it," she said, pulling her shirt back down.

"I can't quit it. I'm going to be a father."

He'd been aware of that fact for officially four days but the resonance of it still didn't seem to fade, and didn't look like it was ever going to.

All it took was one more look from Sarah, though. "Ok, I'll stop now," he said.

Sarah resumed her reading but only 2 minutes passed before she felt her shirt slowly being pulled back again. She put her book down and glared.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Chuck said. "But this is... this is.... I don't know how you could just lay there when there is a baby growing inside of you! A _baby_! _Our _baby!"

Chuck looked at her as he tentatively planted a kiss on her stomach. "Sorry," he whispered to it. "Didn't mean to shout." He looked back at Sarah. "I should probably keep my voice down around your belly. Wouldn't want to damage our little baby's tiny ears."

"Chuck, please don't refer to my stomach as a belly."

"Belly not your thing? How 'bout tummy? No? Is that a no on tummy? Baby bump?" Then, off her look, "Ok, we'll just stick with stomach. Whatever you want, Sweetie."

"Have you told anyone?"

"You mean besides Awesome and Ellie? No."

"Good," Sarah said. "I don't think we should tell anyone until I quit. Officially."

"Really?" Chuck asked, scooting up to sit beside her against the headboard. "So you're actually going through with it?"

"Well don't look so surprised," she said. "My job is too dangerous. I can't jeopardize myself or the...."

"Baby," Chuck said in a tone that said, _go on, say it_.

"The baby," she finally conceded.

"You wanna talk about it?"

"Talk about what?"

"Well you're about to quit a job you love– a job you've had since you were 18, I might add– for something you never even asked for. I mean... the CIA's the only thing you've ever really known and this is totally uprooting your life."

"Don't worry about it."

"Don't worr– that's all? That's all I'm getting out of you?"

She looked at him like, _what more do you want?_

"My insides are jumping for joy right now, as gross as that metaphor may sound, and I can't sit still for a minute without thinking about how amazing all of this is. Having kids– being a dad– it's always been part of the plan for me. This is everything I ever wanted." He took a breath. "You've never even discussed kids before."

"I never talked about kids because I never planned on having any."

He didn't say anything but he didn't have to; she could see in the way the light left his eyes, the way his shoulders dropped ever so slightly, that he assumed that this– having a child– was something she never wanted.

"I never thought I would have kids. But I always wanted them." She looked at his eyes to make sure he understood. "I always wanted them and when I met you I knew that if I were ever going to have kids I'd want to have them with you."

A smile sneaked back onto his face. "Really?" he asked, "when you met me?"

"Well, it took about four days."

"Four days!"

"Give or take."

She was glad to have told him that, not only so that he could rest assured but because he needed to know that's how she felt. "This is everything I ever wanted," she said, borrowing his words but making them sound like they were no one but hers. "More than you can even imagine."

Chuck smiled and kissed her.

////////////////////////////

Head down, staring at his knees, Chuck realizes this is just like the last time. Sarnov still looks the same; same scraggly beard, same greasy smile, and Chuck's strapped to a chair again. And to cap the whole thing off his fucking head's even bleeding.

This is exactly the same position he was in the last time he saw Sarnov. The only difference is that Sarah isn't in the same room this time. So, at least there's that.

"I know you," Sarnov says. "You CIA."

Chuck pulls at his wrists tied behind him. He was out when Sarnov tied him up, which Chuck is starting to realize is Sarnov's preferred way of doing things. He pulls at his wrists more angry than desperate, trying to get a feel of how hard it's going to be to get out of the knots. If it's even possible. More than being scared, more than anything, he's furious with himself. Furious that he didn't just squeeze the trigger when he had the chance.

"You CIA!"

Chuck gets the feeling it's more of a question than a statement. Is he CIA? He mulls it over, begins to understand it has something to do with why he isn't dead yet.

"Yeah, I'm CIA."

Sarnov looks worried, which makes Chuck feel less so.

"How many of you there is?" Sarnov goes on. "Is anybody more in this hotel?! What do you know!?"

Sarnov's raising his voice and starting to pace, and looking all together freaked out. Chuck's never pictured him like this. In his mind he's always been the heartless villain who took his life away. Right now he's just a paranoid guy with a gun. And even tied to a chair Chuck realizes that he's got the upper hand in the cool-head department.

Sarnov's not going to kill him yet and Chuck understands why. "Yes, there's more of us," Chuck says. "We're everywhere. And we're watching you."

Sarnov goes to the balcony slowly, pulls back the curtain with the tip of his gun. He looks outside tentatively, the walks back into the room.

"No, no, I no believe you," Sarnov says. "There is no one outside. Or they would be here already, to save you."

He has a point, and given the current circumstances, Chuck isn't quick enough on his feet to come up with a plausible reason for that.

"If you....," he swallows and tries again. "Someone _is _watching. And if you point that gun at me you'll see."

"I will see?" Sarnov laughs. "No, no, I think you are lying to me. So _you_ will see."

A second after he lifts his gun the only bullet that flies is the one that comes through the balcony to blow the gun out of Sarnov's hand.

Casey steps into the room, picking up the gun that flew out of Sarnov's hand, his own gun still pointed at the man on the floor. As Casey snips the binds Chuck is, for once, grateful that the NSA agent is _always _tracking him.

Casey gives Chuck his gun. "Finish it," he says.

Sarnov is on his back and holding his hand to chest, half of it a bloody stump where three of his fingers used to be. He is, almost literally, unarmed, and can do nothing but try not to cry out as he looks up at the man pointing a gun at him. "Who are you?" he asks, utterly lost.

"Don't you remember me?"

Chuck kicks him in the stomach, and finding it to be very therapeutic he does it again. "Don't you remember me!" he asks once more. Casey stands back, holding his wrist and watching the scene like it was as interesting as a cooking show. Chuck stands still again and points the gun at Sarnov's head. "A year ago you stabbed my girlfriend." Leaning down he continues to point the gun until the barrel touches the spot between Sarnov's eyes. "You killed our baby."

Chuck looks at him, trying to see if any of this registers, but it doesn't really matter if it does. "This is for Sarah," he says. His hand feels clammy around the gun, and he feels himself starting to shake. Every inch of him is vibrating with the desire to pull the trigger. But still, he only looks at him. There is no sign of remorse in Sarnov's eyes. If anything, the more minutes that pass the less Sarnov seems bothered by any of this at all. He smiles, finally, as something seems to dawn on him. "You are not a killer."

Chuck lets out a breath and slowly takes the gun off of Sarnov's forehead. "No," he says, standing. "I'm not."

Casey walks up to Sarnov like he was just waiting for this very moment to arise.

"But I'm not the only want who wants you dead," Chuck says.

And just like that Sarnov isn't smiling anymore.

"This is for what you did to Agent Sarah Walker," Casey says. And then he shoots him.

.......................

As Sarah types she is distracted by a very familiar tune. A tune she has heard nearly everyday for the last 7 months. She turns away from the computer screen to watch her coworker Larry, his head bobbing up and down, humming. She's trying to shoot daggers at him with her eyes, telling him to please, _for the love of god, _answer the phone_. _Larry begins to sing (low enough so that the rest of his coworkers can't hear but loud enough that Sarah, who is just a few feet away, can). If he lets it go to the chorus she swears that she's going to get up, walk over, and jam a pencil right into his--

"_I'm bringing sexy back,_" he croons in a high falsetto. "_Those other brothers don't know how to-_"

"Larry?" She says, a strained smile on her face. "Aren't you going to get that?"

"I will....in just a minute."

Sarah slowly but firmly wraps her fingers around a pencil.

"Yeah?" Larry said, finally answering his phone. Sarah loosens her grip on the pencil. "Ok, let me write this down. Benny's Pizzeria, yeah I know the place. In half an hour? Who did you say you were again? You want me to repeat it? Ok. Agent Carmichael. Charles Carmichael."

Sarah's ears perked up. Could it be?

"I never heard of any Agent Carmichael," Larry says. "What? No this isn't Sarah Walker!" he barks, turning to Sarah, who can't help but snigger. "And no, I won't give her the message! Why don't you just call her yourself!"

Larry snaps his phone shut. "Who the hell is Agent Carmichael?" he asks her.

Sarah shrugs. "Never heard of him."

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Benny's Pizzeria is the only place in all of Virginia that Chuck knows about. He's never actually been there but he's seen their takeout menu on Sarah's refrigerator. It's a small place and right now there's about a dozen kids inside in soccer uniforms celebrating a big win. It may not be the perfect place to reunite with Sarah but he doesn't want to have to wait hours until she gets home from work so it'll have to do.

He sees her walk through the door before she can spot him out and he's amazed that she can still take his breath away whenever she walks into a room.

He stands from his booth seat as she comes to meet him and for a moment they just stand before each other. He would've liked to kiss her, hug her-- anything– but she's looking at him funny, like she's examining him. "You didn't kill him, did you?" she asks.

"How did you know?"

"I can tell."

It's a weird conversation to be having in the family friendly setting but, alas, there it is.

"But he's dead," Chuck says. "And I'm staying."

She still doesn't look like she believes him, about any of it, but her eyes are already glasses. "I'm not going anywhere this time," he goes on.

And finally he can kiss her; hug her; anything.

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**Just a little message here to say this isn't the final chapter. There's still one more coming up. And also, just wanted to thank everyone for reading. Those who stuck by the story even though it was too dark/confusing at times. Those who favorited, and especially those who reviewed. Reviews fuel every writer- so thank you! All your names are burned in my brain now ;). **


	11. Trouble

**So here's the final chapter. Thanks so much to those who read this story and let me know that they liked it :) For sticking it out through all the darkness, I give you this chap. I hope you like it!**

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Today is Family Fun Weekend and Mason's face, even under the baseball cap, shines brilliantly in the sun. His eyes dance with excitement as he wiggles his bat in the air, waiting for the pitch. Tall for his age and with a mega-watt smile and gorgeous blonde hair combo he's already said to have given 3 girls in his class their first kisses. At five years old the kid is an ideal mix of his parents; big-hearted, smart, and pretty much perfect.

Chuck would rather be showing him how to play his first video game but the kid's game of choice is baseball. And so Chuck stands some feet away, winding the ball back.

"Ready?" he calls.

.

.

Today is Family Fun Weekend and Chuck stands in the middle of the backyard holding his nuts.

"Oh no!" Mason says, running towards him. The boy is still holding the baseball bat, and even though it was the ball that hit him in the groin region Chuck still takes a step back at the mere sight of the big blunt stick.

"Does it hurt really bad?"

Chuck's mouth still hasn't formed anything but a painful-looking 'O' shape but he manages a strained, "Nah. I'm ok." He knew he should've pushed harder for the video gaming.

"I'm really sorry."

"I know, Mason" Chuck nods, trying to put on a brave face. "This is so much funnier when it happens on TV."

Having heard Chuck's pained groan Sarah's already on her way towards them. "Is everything ok?" she asks a second before she notices that Chuck's not only doubled over but also holding his nuts. The discarded ball on the grass and the sight of Mason with his baseball bat is enough to clue her in to what transpired.

Sarah rubs Chuck's back, trying not to laugh. "Maybe you should go sit in the pool for a bit. Some cold water'll do you good."

Chuck nods and waddles away without another word.

"I'm sorry, Aunt Sarah, I didn't mean to," Mason says.

"I know, Sweetie," she responds. Chuck may be hurting but right now she can't help but feel for Mason and the guilt written all over his awesome little face.

"Dad says that getting hurt down there can be bad for your wang energy."

"Uh..." After five years of being an aunt she's still not sure how to respond to statements like those. But that's what Awesome and Ellie are for. "Don't worry. This isn't the first time your uncle Chuck's been hit down there with a ball."

"Really?"

"Oh yeah," Sarah says. "In fact, your dad's accidently hit him down there plenty of times. Which is _why _Uncle Chuck doesn't like sports very much."

"Oh. So Uncle Chuck's going to be ok?"

"Absolutely."

Mason's face brightens. And as if to confirm the good news he asks, "can we hug?"

Sarah opens up her arms and grins as the boy wraps his arms around her waist. And just like that he's back to being in a great a mood because everything is once again....

"Awesome."

"Now why don't you go inside and ask your mom if she needs any more help with lunch."

"Ok!"

Sarah watches her nephew run back into the house. She loves being an aunt. Before Mason came along she didn't know how to test a bottle or even change a diaper, and for all the skills she had those were important ones to be missing. She loves being an aunt– much more than Chuck loves being an uncle right about now. But she also knows that Chuck'll go right back to picking up the baseball mitt as soon as Mason asks. She turns back to see how Chuck's doing. By the looks of the way he's splashing around he seems back to normal.

"I've got a leg!" Chuck shouts.

He grabs a foot and digs in, lightly mauling it with faux-menace and bared teeth. The kid playing fish food throws his head back and laughs while the ticklish bites go from his foot to his arm to his stomach. Billy's laughs suddenly die out, though, and he turns very serious. "It's not fair that you're the shark," he says. "The pool is so small! You're always going to catch me."

That much is true. The two of them are in an inflatable kiddie pool and with the slide and the various water toys floating around, Chuck has to bend his knees just to sit in it. "Ok, how 'bout you get to be the shark this time and I get to be helpless victim?"

Billy's smile grows wide again at the new idea. He stands up, dripping wet, and begins to stomp in place, his hands clawing threateningly at the air. And though the stomping and roaring is, frankly, adorable, the boy's idea of a shark is obviously a little skewed.

"Oh no!" Chuck puts on his most high-pitched damsel-in-distress voice. "Somebody _please _save me!"

"Are you a monster, Billy?" Sarah asks.

"I'm a shark!"

"Can't you tell?!" Chuck yelps, still using the voice.

The boy continues to scratch the air, never actually following up on his threat of attack, but Chuck still cowers in fear. "A shark, of course!" Sarah smiles.

"Don't save him, Mommy!" the boy says.

"Wasn't going to."

"Well that's not very nice," Chuck frowns, turning to her. It's a bad move; it's just at that moment that Billy decides to pounce. Sarah can't help but admire his method of attack. It's no use though; Chuck wraps him in his arms and cradles his son until the boy's undone by his own laughter. "Who's got ya now, Billy?"

Billy Bartowski is the product of Sarah and Chuck. He's got big blue eyes, the type of unruly brown hair that makes funny animal shapes when it gets too long, and he's three years old. But when he was born he had tiny golden hairs that went all the way down his neck. When he was born Chuck spent most of his time hovering over Billy's crib, watching him in unabashed amazement. Sarah teased him for the way he would stare, mouth agape and eyes wide, but it wasn't like she didn't do the same thing. Chuck noticed it every time she fed him, rocked him, bathed him; like Billy was the most precious thing she'd ever held. Which he was, of course.

By the time he was one he could already make his parents crack up. Chuck and Sarah were especially amused by the way he would walk around, after just learning how, like a stumbling drunk. (Chuck still carried him everywhere even after the kid got the hang of walking).

By the time he was 15 months Chuck was delighted to announce to the world that his son's first word was "Daddo." But Sarah still stands by the fact that "Daddo" isn't a word at all and that his first actual word came at 16 months when one day he looked right at her and said "Momma."

At two Billy discovered his love for dancing and he was as good at it as Chuck was. (Which isn't saying much because Chuck isn't a very good dancer). But turn on a song and the kid shimmied around in a stilted rocking movement. Which Chuck always matched, move for move.

When Billy was two and a half Chuck was equal parts proud and scared that his son was especially adept at memory games. He vows to keep him away from any suspicious emails in his future.

At three Billy is the only kid in the playground who's allowed to play with toy guns. The other moms at the playground frown on toy guns but Sarah finds absolutely nothing wrong with them, and anyway how is she supposed to play Cops and Robbers without guns? (To her surprise Sarah loves the playground. She never thought she'd ever find herself spending her afternoons there but she can honestly say she'd rather climb to the highest points of the jungle jim than to the top of a building to chase some bad guy.)

"Come on, Billy," Sarah says. "Let's get you dry."

Chuck sets Billy down on the grass so that he can go to his mother. Sarah proceeds to take off his goggles, floaties, UV protection shirt, ear plugs, and finally his swim shoes. She wraps him in a towel and sits him on her lap, patting him dry.

"You know the pool's barely a foot deep," Chuck says. "You could probably ease up a little on all the scuba gear."

Sarah leans her head down til her mouth's close to her son's ear. "Should we ease up on the scuba gear?"

The boy shakes his head emphatically and Sarah's got a justified look on her face when she addresses Chuck again. "See?"

As it turns out, of the two of them, Sarah is the overly protective parent. Not that Chuck isn't protective, but when Billy got knocked down by an older girl in the park the other day it wasn't Chuck who instantly turned on the spy mode looking for the culprit. Chuck's protective in his own way.

If Chuck has learned anything from the last few years it's that he'll protect his family from anything. He's capable of that. Of putting his life on the line to protect this life that he's made for his family. It may not be the one he and Sarah had originally envisioned but it's everything they could have ever hoped for. Extensive tests by the government verified that Chuck's brain could no longer recover any encoded images. But even so, neither the CIA nor the NSA were willing to let Chuck go that easy. For his own protection he had round-the-clock surveillance (in other words, Sarah). And so that they could have their hand in the game the NSA sent over one of their guys twice a year to make sure Chuck's life was free of espionage, secret intelligence, and general spy stuff (in other words, completely and utterly normal.) Chuck usually spends those bi-annual visits showing a grumbling Casey the latest updates in the family album.

Even though the government is still keeping a watchful eye at least neither Chuck nor Sarah have to keep jobs that require them to wear uniforms to work anymore. A small, but non-the-less significant, achievement.

As Sarah dries Billy off Chuck notices his son's gaze is set in intent concentration on the middle of Chuck's bare chest. "What is it, buddy?"

"How come your drawing doesn't come off?" Billy asks. Chuck realizes he's talking about his tattoo. "When I color on myself you always take it off with water, Mommy."

"Well your mom's got magic hands."

"She does?"

Chuck notices, through the wide-eyed wonder on Billy's face, that his son is taking him too seriously. "No, no, no, I was joking. Mommy was able to wash it off because your markers are washable. Mine is... well, mine's permanent."

"Whats pernament mean?"

"It means it stays on forever and ever."

Billy's mouth fell open in shock. "You're in big trouble."

"Yes!" Sarah says, eyeing Chuck like he's a bad example. "He is! You are never ever, under any circumstances, allowed to write on yourself, ok Billy?

Billy nods.

"Can you read what it says, Buddy?" Chucks asks.

He can't read yet but he's been told so many times that he already knows it by heart. "For Sarah and Billy."

"That's right," Sarah whispers to him. "And do you know _what's _for you and me?"

"Daddy's heart," Billy says, already well-versed in the meaning of Chuck's tattoo. So well-versed he's not very impressed by the idea anymore. If anything, Sarah's the one who likes to be reminded.

"Yep," she says. "It belongs to _us_."

Billy tilts his head sideways like he's thinking of something. "You need your heart, Daddy. You can keep it."

Chuck laughs.

"My two guys," Sarah smiles. "So generous."

"You really lucked out," Chuck says.

"I did."

"Hey Billy, why don't you go ask Awesome Jr. if he can show you how to whittle a canoe out of a tree branch."

Billy runs back into the house through the back door and Sarah stands, spreading open the towel. "Time to get out, Chuck."

"What, don't you wanna come in?"

"As fun as that sounds I don't think we'd both fit."

Chucks reluctantly gets up and stands before Sarah, waiting for her to dry him up. And she obliges, her eyes not leaving his as she wraps the towel around his waist, where he's the wettest. His eyebrows do a suggestive Bartowski Eyebrow Dance to match every suggestive pat of her hands.

"You all--" she looks down at the front of his trunks before looking back up-- "better now?"

Chuck shifts his weight from foot to foot and bounces on the balls of his feet a couple of times. "I dunno," he sighs. "The kid really knows how to swing. I'm probably gonna need you to check me out, make sure there's no lasting damage."

Sarah is smirking. She's so caught up in his eyes it's a while before she notices the way his thumb's grazing her side, inching ever closer to a spot that's way too inappropriate for Family Fun Weekend. At least out in the backyard.

"Chuck!" she whispers,

He wraps her in his arms, neither of them caring that he's not fully dry yet. Her hand rests on her favorite part of his body, that spot in his chest. She looks at the words again and reads them. _For Sarah and Billy_. It makes her feel good.

"If Billy comes home one day with a tattoo I'm blaming you."

"Now, when you say blame, do you mean..." he whispers something in her ear that is _definitely _too inappropriate for Family Fun Weekend.

"Isn't that how Billy was conceived?"

Chuck nods mischievously. He kisses Sarah and closes his eyes.

Sometimes really bad things have to happen in order for really good things to come. Sometimes your former best friend has to get you mixed up in the spy life so that the love of your life has to come and protect you. And sometimes something so extraordinarily bad has to happen right in front of your eyes that you forget every last secret that's stored in your brain. Sometimes you have to lose something to gain something. Chuck's main goal right now is to make sure that everything bad is behind them.

There was a time in his life when he closed his eyes and all he could see was the horror of one night. But now, whenever he closes his eyes, he sees the faces of his family.

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Sarah observed Chuck from across the table. This lunch-break date was his idea; an attempt to get to know each other better so that they'd make a more convincing pair in front of his sister and her boyfriend. They were going over things that would normally come up in conversation on a first date. Grabbing his corn dog absentmindedly Chuck seemed to remember to give it another look before taking a bite out of it. It was so charred it was more black than brown. He smiled nervously and took a bite anyway. Sarah smiled watching him chew with effort.

"You don't have to eat that," she said. "I know they're horrible. Still haven't got the hang of the Weinerlicious deep frier."

"It's delicious," Chuck said through a mouthful of grimace.

Sarah didn't know whether he was eating it because he was a gentleman or because he was still very, very scared of the CIA agent who'd showed up in his life not a week earlier.

"Really," she said. "You don't have to."

Chuck promptly spat into his napkin. "Thank you."

The thing that she was learning about Chuck was that he was sometimes very eager to please. Like a puppy. And that he was very sweet. This was only significant because she had never been attracted to men who were sweet. And the more time that she spent with Chuck the more she realized that she was indeed attracted to him. She liked that he was tall and lanky, she liked that she could tell everything that he was thinking just by looking in his eyes. She even liked his hair. But she especially liked his smile. If they ever had a kid she'd want him to have his smile.

She sat up a little straighter, surprised by her own thought.

"You ok?" Chuck asked.

Sarah nodded. "Why wouldn't I be?"

She couldn't believe she'd just imagined having kids with the asset. And it was only the fourth day she knew him. She pushed the thought to the back of her mind before it could turn into trouble.

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